Journal of a Genius's Daughter
by Teenangel
Summary: The words of Rodney McKay's daughter about growing up and living in her home, Atlantis. Set in the future with all the common couples. Assumes they never can contact earth. Minor language, some future gore. Journal format. COMPLETED.
1. This is who we are

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

July 7th 2028 13:14

This is Who We Are

In every moment of life I find a tenseness that eats away at my calm exterior. Life is harsh, solid, and insistent. The clock on the wall ticks and ticks reminding me that I forgot to eat, I forgot to sleep, I forgot to yell at my dad to sleep, I forgot _not_ to touch the gizmo he was working on, I forgot to meet mom on the back balcony, I forgot to go to Carson for a check-up, I forgot to read the ingredients of the MRE and ended up waking to Carson's face ...I forgot that I had a bad tendency to forget. Honestly, it isn't that disastrous...maybe one out of five I forget. The fact that my mind is crammed with as much knowledge as half the computer and my body seems to think that hyperglycemia is acceptable doesn't help much either.

Not that I'm complaining or ranting this...wasting precious computer memory is not my goal here, but Kate...sorry, Dr. Heightmeyer thinks that it would be conductive for us to follow our parents in keeping journals, which you Kate will inevitably read. (Do you even try to remember anything? Or are you just scanning for words like suicide? Honestly, you think anyone admits anything in these?)

Hey, I know. If I wrote this in another language would you bother translating it? Does Zelenka write his in Czech? Beckett in Scottish? Does my dad put his in code, or even in ancient--can never put anything past him? I know Shemp is gonna be short, simple, and rude. He's gonna tell you how breakfast sucked this morning, that his dad unfairly grounded him after he blew up a power conduit, how much he thinks this is a stupid idea, and for you to bug off. Kar's probably gonna have an honest field day with this...expect a novel, even if it is in Czech. Or do you already make your son keep a Journal?

I think I know a good place to really dig in, my friends...at least I think their my friends--rivalries are still being assigned. That was a joke. First off, Shemp and Kira, the Shepherd twins as different as night and day. Kira's a caring friend, but she sees me as arrogant, not as much as her brother, but still. I know we'll never be best friends, but she's there when I need her, standing by my bedside when I awaken in the infirmary or pulling me out of the lab at Carson's orders. Shemp, what can I say of John Jr., except I'll never use his proper name in public. If you locked us up in a room, we'd either become ridiculously close in order to escape or five hours later there'd be a homicide. Evidently, I was assigned Shemp as my lifelong rival.

As opposed to Karkeroff Zelenka, who will forever be my lifelong friend. The fact that we were born three months apart and were practically raised together puts us on a solid base. Add that our parents work together and we constantly are working with them and we've got ourselves some serious understandings beneath the surface. There are things we only know... But even so, he has a worry streak, barely joining in on certain things (which we probably shouldn't be doing anyway, one of the few times I side with Shemp), and he's emotional, scrawny--weak, if I'm aloud to be privately cruel. He annoys me sometimes. Hell, _everyone_ annoys me sometimes.

I suppose if I had to spend any lengthy period of time with someone who wouldn't tick me off it'd have to be Beckett. Dear quite, thoughtful, philosophical Beckett. I don't know why we call him by his last name and his dad by his first name--shrug--oh well. Beck has that honest charm about him. His blue-eyed stare can calm the most violent of souls. (Where as my blue eyes tend to freeze people over). His smile is so small and genuine. (I can't even fucken smile properly! I inherited dad's slant smile, the left corner of my lip refuses to go up!) Then there is that sweet Scottish undertone, it doesn't matter what he's saying as long as he keeps saying it. But he's as distant as me like a ghost that forgets it's there and walks through people. I suppose that gives us common ground, being the two most likely to become hermits--me in the lab getting electrocuted, him in some secret room in the belly of city thinking.

Obviously, there are more kids in Atlantis that I'm aquatinted with--Mila, Hannah, Greg and the rest of the munchins that reach the five year my junior line. But the ones above are the first wave. We are the precedent for the others and someday we will be the leaders of Atlantis. It's in the cards and it's playing itself out as we speak. Already Shemp is training for heading his first (very boring and minor) mission; Kira has begun apprenticing with Carson; Kar and I have the lab at our disposal and minor techs at our beck and call; Beck, well, he's got charisma and the presence needed to grab everyone's attentions, and he's got the patience and the understanding to smooth out complications. We've all got our shapes, we're just waiting our moments to fit into the puzzle.

Unconfusing you, if you can't follow journal format and for a recap:

Karkeroff's parents our Dr. Radek Zelenka and Dr. Kate Heightmeyer (and apparently she never changed her last name) Kar is his nickname.

Shemp is a nickname given to John Shepherd Jr. (you'll found out later)

Kira and John Jr. our twins...you can probably guess who their mother is, because I wasn't being too creative with the couples.

Kira (John Sr.'s daughter) wants to become a doctor; where as Carson's son seems to have no drive to follow in his father's steps.

Beckett is used to refer to Carson's son, and only Carson's son. (What is his first name and why does no one use it?)

Yes, the writer of this Journal is McKay's daughter, who I may never name. (Who is her mother?)

Any suggestions, compliments, flames?


	2. I am the daughter of a Genius

Journal of the Genius's Daughter 

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't due me, waste of time.

July 13th 23:34

I am the daughter of a Genuis

Carson just kicked me out of the lab! Shot me with sedatives as I tried to grab onto a shelving unit and (with the help of Kira, naturally) dragged me to my quarters, where they left me face first in my pillow. But they're gone now and I transferred the program I was working on to my room computer--even without the device I can get something done. But somehow I ended up opening this blasted journal and started typing. Did I mention I'm apparently immune to sedatives? I figured it out when I was like six and Carson shot me up with some so he could stitch my chin...I felt every minute of pain, but it wasn't that bad, and I didn't shed a tear.

I was really little once...wow. Doc, I think we're making a break through, my inner childhood. Again joke. As if any child psychology would've worked on the first wave. Dude, how do you cope with a six year old who can do differential calculus, program and fix ancient technology, and speak four languages? I don't think my parents even knew the answer. They treated me like I was a Godsend.

Damn it! What did you expect would happen when Genius procreates, you'd end up with a Shemp or a Kira? Honestly, was it really that weird having a kid that understood what was going on in the ancient city she grew up in? Although, I can not take the full arrogant credit of being a Godsend: Kar is as equally as gifted and intelligent as I -- and has more common sense.

I remember when they first figured it out. My parents. I was four and such a handful, constantly getting into fights with Shemp or making obscene comments to people. Mom blamed Dad for my mouth. Dear Daddy, always shrugging me off for later, always having something more important in his lab. I can forgive him; I forgave him even back then. He wasn't good with little kids. The one time I'd been left with him longer than an hour I ended up getting those stitches (I'm a naughty little escape artist). Oh, he loved me plenty, but I was so fragile to him, so precious. Maybe, he was afraid he couldn't hold his temper with me. (My mouth was proof I'd already heard too much of his out bursts). But I was gonna force a compromise of sorts. I was gonna put myself on his level--and live out being the daughter of a genius. Mom had left me with him one afternoon in his lab. Zelenka was there, too, along with some lab techs; so, dad was off the hook of having to actually watch me. I stood on a chair, watching as my father and Zelenka argued over calculations for a power converter. I covertly picked up the equations, worried that daddy would yell at me, but he was too busy to notice. He was too busy to notice when I started making marks on his calculations, too busy to notice when I put them in his hands, too busy to notice immediately where the correct answers he was holding had come from. Then, it dawned on him, a full minute after it had dawned on Zelenka, and my father was staring at me, not as if I was a fragile crystal girl, but as an equal. Suddenly, I had an adult mind in his eyes, I had his mind, I was without a question a product of his genetics and he loved me for that. And he hugged me so hard that day that **it made up for the last four years**.


	3. Of Lizards and Scottman

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't due me, waste of time.

August 8th 07:20

I screwed up my inner clock, so now I'm awake and no one else is. Except, Beckett out on his morning walk, but it's common knowledge not to bother him until nine, after he's done having his "profound revelations". He's three years my junior ,but it's easy to forget that. He's got the heart of a wise old Scottish elder. The kind that sit at a one thousand year old pub and spout uncommon sense.

Shemp and I got grounded last week, for putting a lizard in Carson's medical coat. Every seen a Scottish man jump-dance? Carson was a good sport about it, always likes something to liven up the day, but our dad's had a different spin on the sitch.

"What if it had been poisonous?"

"What if it carried diseases and had bit Carson?"

"What if it'd caught Carson off guard during an important procedure?"

Dude, then ground the lizard. Ironically Carson didn't want us to be grounded...I'll remember that someday. But it was amusing having our dads on the same side, even if their glares were making our skin crawl. Yes, Shemp and I do have our moments, because we've got the cruelest senses of humor just like our old mans. Yes, blame the parents, it works wonders for the psyche.


	4. FondUnfond Memory

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

August 9th 13:42

Great, just great. Now, you're giving us journal assignments. Was my dad only writing about how much Zelenka gets on his nerves or how hot he thinks mom is or how he is hyperglycemic, because I know it's all his fault—somehow it is.

Anygate, the assignment: _write about a first_

My first hyperglycemic shock…

_in your childhood_

My first accident…

_that you have a fond memory of._

You just love taking all the fun out of it, don't you?

Okay, okay. I'm gonna work with this, but only because I'm grounded this morning for attempting to lock Shemp in a 'turbolift'.

(Hours go by) I was few months over one and mom decided I was ready for my first trip to the mainland. Dad was firmly against it, paranoid about all sorts of phenomenon—puddle jumper malfunctioning, me wandering off, me eating something citrus. But mom's charms are unbeatable, plus that I'm-the-leader-of-this-city look.

I remember Shepherd flew the ship, letting me sit on his lap. The ocean flew by through the windshield and I was confounded by whether it was moving or we were. We landed in a dramatic swoop that made my mother curse and Shepherd laugh.

The door opened and my mother gently led me out by the hand. I stepped onto something very soft and very cold. The flat green strings erupting from the earth fascinated me. On the instinct of a toddler, I ripped a tiny fist-full and shoved it in my mouth. The next moment Shepherd's finger was forcing it's way through my lips, but it was too late—I'd swallowed it.

It was only grass, but my mother insisted on giving Carson a quick call over the radio. He gave me the all clear. We then headed out to the Athosian village, there I met my first group of children. (Up to that point I'd only known Kar.) They were as small as me and as clumsy as me and they understood my lack of a concrete language. I spent hours ripping grass with them, piling rocks, and stumbling in games of chase.

By nightfall a bonfire was set in one of the fields and many others from the city had arrived such as my dad, Zelenka, Kar (who wouldn't leave you, his mama, and was afraid of the other kids), Kate (you), Tayla and Carson. Tayla and Shepherd disappeared almost immediately—and the result was Shemp and Kira. Carson hung out, barely, being all friendly and shy at the same time. Mom, Dad, and I were snuggled down near the bonfire nibbling on Athoisan crumb cake, which, though my dad makes constant comparisons to Earth cake, I think will never be out done.

Mom and Dad later went for a walk on the shore and Carson was left caring a droopy little girl, drooling on his sweater. I must've been really cute, because one of the Athosian women came over to wrap me in a shawl. Carson's cheeks turned as red as her hair. Gulina was such a simple, caring person.

I don't think I can write anymore about this.

I've lost the fondness.


	5. Ranting and Watching

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

August 20th 20:45

Testing testing, this is Ms. McKay's journal. I am Karkeroff and I'm just dropping a line in…you really shouldn't leave your computer unattended and logged in. Really, what if I was John? What if I was your dad? Or even my dad, because I know he keeps trying to sneak a peek at mine. Mom refuses to tell him what I write, but I don't think she reads it anyway.

Uh oh, you're coming back. Don't be angry with me, I didn't read anything.

21:35

Kate! What have you been teaching your son? No, wait, I shouldn't put the blame on you, this is most likely all Z's fault.

Yes, I forgave him. He's too cute to hate with that flyaway hair and those big glasses that fall down his face whenever he bends over. God, he's such a typical geek, if I go by the stereotype Shepherd uses.

But than what does that make me? A glorious and complex contradiction of brains and beauty? But I am so much more. I have brawns or at the very least stamina, because chasing Shemp long enough to tire him out really requires a certain level of endurance. I have shooting skills, thanks to Shepherd. I can do a Scottish folk dance, and I'm not sure what that counts for.

Where was I? Oh yeah, your son typing in my most private of possessions, well, second most private possession. We all know what the first is, Mr. Puddlejumper, the teddy bear. And what is a bear? Mom described it to me once, but I couldn't imagine how that got translated into something so cute and helpless. Not that my bear is anywhere close to the earth equivalent, made by an Athosian craftsman using pictures by my mom.

Kar is really getting away easy with this. I'm so…forgetful.

I see Beckett. I'm sitting on the east balcony typing this. He can't see me: I'm in the corner, plus he's not looking. He never really looks unless it's something important. He's too busy up there in his head. He's leaning on the railing, staring down into the water that flows beneath the city as if it were a dream. He seems like a flame in the twilight, his red hair highlighted by the glow from the city.

He's still staring. The water. I don't know why, but I'm afraid. The water, his hair. I feel like he shouldn't get to close. What if his fire went out?


	6. Like Father Like Daughter

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

August 22nd 19:05

I had a momentous moment today. I have become my father. Zelenka affirmed it. I've never had a spit with him before, but this day sure made up for it. We screamed at each other like squawking birds (specifically those ugly kind on the plant with a volcano). (Which gave the signal for everyone to vacate). I'm surprised my ears didn't bleed. Over such a simple thing as a homemade ZPM. He claimed my calculations were off, that I couldn't hold the energy in a controlled space, that I wasn't thinking outside of the box, that I was thinking like 'Rodney'.

He called me arrogant. And after fifteen minutes, about the time his face went red and his hair began to act like medusa's snakes (I like mythology), he blew up, threw my Computer pad at me and stormed off, knocking a bunch of things off my desk on his way out.

Damn him.

Kar gave me a nasty look when he came in an hour later. The other techs still hadn't returned and I was finishing the touches on my masterpiece. I was all set to test it, smugly confident that'd I'd be laughing in Z's face by dinner time. And then I'd be laughing at his face on Earth by tomorrow.

Kar brushed past me. He tried to be pushy, but he's just too scrawny to be any threat. He watched me like a hungry hawk for awhile, until his anger turned into worry and he was looking at me with great welling puppy eyes. (God he is so good at that). He finally just grabbed my calculations.

"They're wrong," he immediately stated.

Wrong. Wrong is such a damn strong word. Can't they be misguided calculations or almost-right calculations? But no, they were wrong with no room for a slant smile to gain me some mild support. In fact, not only were they accordingly wrong, but what I was doing was impossible.

The bottom line: I was going to hurt myself if I tried it.

"If I say go ahead and kill yourself?"

"You wouldn't say that," I said, "you'd say 'Go ahead and kill us' because you won't leave 'til I stop and I won't stop 'til I succeed. Besides," I shrugged, "I've died before."

"If I say go ahead and kill your mother's heart?"

The computer pad clattered to the floor and I stood starring at his owl eyes, trying to envision my death from another point of view. I knew immediately he wasn't really talking about my mother's feelings. He was pleading far too much and far too hard. He honestly was broken by the prospect of my demise.

I picked the pad back up and glared at the numbers and squiggles as if they'd jump around and fix themselves. There was an inconsistency, but I was putting it off as the universe's glitch, a minor significant difference. I looked at my scrap-yard creation. Blue lights blinked on it with anticipation. Light blue lights like Beckett's. The eyes of a ghost. Someone's got to keep him grounded, least the dream take him away.

"Earth cake probably sucks anygate," I muttered, handing the pad to him and wandering off to find something with chocolate.

Note, I never admitted to being one hundred percent wrong. It'll work. It just needs tweaking, lots of tweaking, and more arguments with Kar and Z to get it right.


	7. My Atlantis

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

August 27 21:34 

Urg. I need a nap. Shemp says I snore. (We had to share a tent while on the mainland). I do not snore! I swear. Whatever he heard was a figment of his imagination or maybe his father was being really loud in the next tent over.

I'm really not in a mood to rant. I've been up for at least a day, but seeing as I still haven't sent in this damn journal entry (and you seem to be very insistent) I'm sitting here at this damn computer that's hurting my poor, droopy eyes.

Thanks a lot.

_Describe Atlantis from purely your point of view._

Huh?

I think I'm going to have to look at this from others' points of view before I can separate what is uniquely mine. After all, my point of view is a complex mix of genetics, generation, intelligence, and memories, much of which can be shared with others.

Shemp, son of a military officer and an Athosian warrior, part of the first wave, not too bright, and only remembers when something blew up. Atlantis is a huge playground to him and every mission is like a game. He's playing a game with his life. He's making up strategies for living and fighting as if they were the same thing. To him this city is only as good as its firepower, its shields, and its military. In his point of view Atlantis is a place to stand firmly, but it is only a place in time, for he is all too eager to venture off to other worlds. If given a chance, if shown a place of stronger integrity, he would not think twice.

Kira, ditto, ditto, full of common and uncommon sense, and remembers the beauty in every moment of life. Atlantis is a home to her, but she has a country spirit and goes to the mainland often. In her view Atlantis is a graceful queen standing against the wraith, but it is too impersonal. She can touch it, see it, but she can not reach her soul out to it. It has a permanence that frightens her. It does not change like the harvest cycle. It does not need human contact to survive. It is only a city.

Kar (we can shorten this here), Kar sees the city as circuits, crystals, and software.

Beckett, son of an Athosian poet and a Scottish doctor, filled with profound truths of the inner-universe and memories he constantly dwells in, ensuring their survival. To him, Atlantis is the vessel of trivial existence. Material things are no use to him; they can't fill the loss in his soul. The floors and walls might as well crumble, for he would not notice. But, in the part of him that is somewhat attentive, Atlantis must be a glorious and inspirational place—if only in the morning light.

I suppose that leaves us with me. How is the image of Atlantis distorted through my ice blue eyes? Does my arrogant flair even acknowledge its existence? Do I think I'm better than the builders of Atlantis? Do I think of myself as a controller of the city? That it is a machine to be mastered?

No.

I'm afraid to disappoint.

I am, honestly, quite humbled here. I can not envision it anywhere in my grasp, because Atlantis is her own self. She is the carrier of all the life that has breathed within her. She knew Ancients as people, as inhabitants. She knew silence for thousands of years. And now she knows us. I cannot help but imagine that she can breath. For all the circuits and crystals, for all the massive amounts of information she contains, there is something to be learned from merely feeling the city, standing in front of the gate or off on the balcony, closing ones eyes and spreading ones essence outwards into her metal and glass body.

I can't explain it. Perhaps Atlantis and I have a certain understanding with each other. I know her like the back of my hand. I know the secret places where Beckett hides. I know the crooked places where none but the children can fit. I know of places where the walls are the doors and they never open the same way twice. I even know of places where it is always dark, where the walls are cracked and the water seeps in.

This city is our keeper, but it can also swallow us whole. It deserves our respect.

As opposed to putting dents in it…I hope it eats Shemp.


	8. Died, Died, Died Again

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

**  
Important:** When it came down to this chapter I could think of only one style for it. Unfortunately, It's not uniquely mine, but borrowed from another Atlantis fanfiction I read a couple months ago. I' d love to give them credit, but I can't seem to find the fic again. If you know it, tell me so I can give them credit. 

September 14th 14:15

**I died this week.**

I've died a lot in my lifetime. I can't actually remember the first time. It was when I was a baby and Carson had given me my shots and sent me back home with my parents. Dad nearly had a panic attack. I had turned white and stopped breathing. Apparently, I was allergic to the shot. Another shot later and I was fine, crying up a storm.

I remember the second time I died. I was three, Kar was sharing his snack with me. He gave me a sweet juicy slice of a round pink fruit. I didn't even get a chance to chew before my throat closed up. That's the first time I woke up to Carson's face.

I died again when I was seven and dad wasn't watching me closely in his lab (and no one else was either). I turned something on with my ATA gene (which oddly enough I inherited from my dad--Carson didn't think it would happen with the artificial gene). Electrocution isn't so bad, but I was standing on a chair and you just can't keep your balance after having your lights burned out. I thought I had shattered when I hit the floor. It was the first time I had seen my own blood (cuts and scraps just don't relay the viscosity, volume, and color of true spilt blood).

I died when I was sixteen, the first time I'd worked a consecutive twenty four hours in the lab. I'd run out of power bars nearly twenty hours ago and had never bothered to go to any of the meals. I forgot. I forgot I was hungry, I forgot I had a fast metabolism, I forgot. It feels like losing yourself when you go into a hyperglycemic shock. It feels like you've turned into a ghost and you're body is paper and you're gonna be shred into pieces. But there isn't any pain.

This time there was pain, and I misunderstood it. I forgot to think like Kar and go to Carson. I was busy after all; I had deadlines. Honestly, I thought it was a muscle cramp from sparring with Shemp and being immune to sedatives tends to give me a high threshold for pain. I was working on a dormant system of the city off in the lower east corridor, which has tons of storage, so no one but kids playing hide and seek ever come down here. It was quiet and after having a row with my dad over going on a mission with Shemp's team, it was a welcome retreat.

I didn't except to surface from the "basement" for awhile and brought ten power bars to prove it too myself. (At least I remembered the hyperglycemia this time around _and _read the ingredients first). I acknowledged the discomfort in my abdomen, but I was so focused on the code on the terminal and the chocolate in my mouth to give it much attention.

I must've been sitting there for over six hours before I made any attempt to get up. The room felt cold and I noticed my shirt sticking to my back. It bothered me and I went to stand, but my right leg buckled and I found myself kneeling on the floor, cringing as a fire flared up my thigh and into my stomach. I sat myself down and tentatively poked my right lower abs--I almost screamed. It was not fucken muscle cramp: it was my appendix.

Congratulations kid, like father like daughter; you've learned how to work yourself to death. And that isn't an exaggeration either. According to the beginning of my discomfort, I'd had the symptoms for nearly a day and was well on my way to having it burst. I couldn't stand, I couldn't crawl, and I'd left my radio in the lab (remembering food was hard enough). Plus, I was running a fever and was beginning to get a little disoriented.

Finally, I resolved to make a lot of noise, hoping Mila or Greg would be around. I shoved the chair into the wall, encouraging a stack of boxes to clatter and crash onto the floor. It was my last bout of energy and five minutes later I found myself simply lying on the cold floor, staring up at the blue opaque ceiling. I'd never died slowly before, I'd always passed out. (Shemp says faint but we'll ignore him). This was too real to shrug off; I couldn't close my eyes and open them to Carson's reassuring smile.

"Death ain't so bad," I muttered to myself, knowingly being pessimistic, but then I felt guilty. Mom would be a wreck if I died; Dad would be destroyed by his own guilt that the last words between us were in anger. And what would the others do without me? How would Beckett feel being the only ghost in the city. Suddenly, I wanted Beckett more than anything. I wanted his baby blue eyes to sooth away the pain, I wanted his voice to sing me to sleep.

My eyes shot open (had I passed out?). I heard a shuffle down the hall and my heart leapt at the opportunity. I forced my self on my left foot (amazing what you can accomplish when you're desperate) and barely hoped two steps before I had to grab the doorway to prevent myself from crashing. I moved my self carefully and leaned against a box in the hall as a shadow came down towards me (the lights our never working in the 'basement'). He almost walked through me; he'd been thinking again.

"Kevin," I whispered using his first name, he came to attention, eyes wide and confused, just in time to catch me as I almost tumbled to my knees. He hoisted me soundlessly into his arms, which is strange for me because I always assert not needing to be helped. I'd never trusted in anyone before, but this time I let my self off the hook and sunk into his soft, strong arms and breathed in his scent of sea salt and Athosian crumb cake, just as the pain disappeared and my mind shutoff.

**I died for a complete four minutes.**

I was out for nearly three days. And for once I awoke to Kevin's instead of Carson's face. What would I do without a Beckett around to save me? Dad apologized of course (Carson said he did have a panic attack), but ironically I'm off this mission and have to wait for the next one. I'm out of the infirmary tomorrow--Carson's threatening to take my laptop away if I don't stop and sleep.

_Author's note:_ I'm no medical person. I don't know what it feels like to have hyperclycemia or appendicitis. Just take it with a grain of salt, okay.


	9. The McKayness

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

**Author's note: I've made a change in the year. It's 2028. I realized I didn't give enough time for what I had in mind. Sorry for that. My math skills our terrible. **

September 21st 12:30

Hey, I died; you think we could lay off these assignments? Can my mind have a moment's rest, because I think that this journal is causing me stress. Really, things aren't meant to be admitted in print so they can stare back at you and say 'ha ha, now you can't avoid me'. Not that me being back in the lab helps stress levels much. Why did Zelenka have to insist that dad and I work on a project _together_! It's like asking a Wraith and an Athosian to sit down and have tea—dude, so not smart.

The argument with Zelenka seems like a sweet conversation compared to the rows my dad and me have. But it's not personal, it's business. The moment we walk out of the lab it's forgotten. We go about as father and daughter, until the next day and the next project. (We really our a good match in arguing, neither of us can ever win. It usually requires mom to step in at some point.)

Speaking of dad, I think I found my subject for this journal assignment.

_What or who has influenced you the most in your life?_

Yes, it's dad. The Rod-man. I could try and say my mom, but aside from genetics, language skills, and a predisposition to scold Shepherd Sr. and Jr., we don't have that much in common. (But I still love my mommy very very much). In the end, I am my father's daughter. A mere reflection, which Shepherd Sr. considers one-step short of freaky. He hates it when dad and I are standing next to each other with that codfish expression. (That's why we do it so often, mmmmmwhahahahahaha).

I remember when I was little, but older than six, after the revealing of my intelligence, I used to follow my dad around—a lot. In fact, I think he and Zelenka were one step short of tying me up somewhere and leaving. (I wasn't clingy; I was just curious.)

Then there was the day I asked _The Question_.

In one of my cute blue Athoisan dresses with pigtails sticking out the sides of my head (why mom?), I kindly asked my dad, "What our boys for?"

Yes, that was in essence the sex question. Dad's reaction was something stuttered and slurred beyond coherence. I never got the answer that day. He shooed me away and told me to go play with Kar, even suggested I go torture Shemp, anything to make me disappear. (Dads never seem up to answering these sorts of questions.)

It was answered eventually, and not by my mom. After all, I asked him not her and she insisted that my dad get over it—little girls grow up. Wait, this isn't what you want to hear. Besides, it's too traumatic to explain my dad's explanation of sex. (It involves an example with the gate and a puddlejumper?)

But he has influenced me greatly. He taught me to play chess, taught me how to rig the systems of Atlantis, taught me how to die by forgetfulness, how to scream at people, how to get under any Shepherds' skin. He even taught me how to pout. Pouting is a very useful tool when you're on the verge of being grounded. Although, it can't be considered grounding anymore. I'm twenty-two for god-sake and I still get sent to my quaters—it's punishment, pure and simple. (But I probably deserve it half the time, it's not like I'm acting mature.) It's all relative. Once I have kid I can ground them until they have a kid. Maybe, they ground me to force me to relax. Uh huh, not working.

Anygate, as Ford says, peaceout.

_Author's note:_ My sister was really upset they killed off Ford so ta da, I have brought him back to life.


	10. Put out the Flame

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

**Author's note of the last chapter:** I realized that 'grounding' a twenty-two year old might seem weird, but think of the situation they're in: she lives down the hall from her parents and locking someone in a turbolift isn't very nice. Plus, maturity is the main factor. I have a twenty-eight year old sister and she's still fifteen at heart. Another scenario, a twenty-two year old college student staying at home over the summer might get 'grounded' if they have a serious fight with their little sister (hair-pulling and clawing). It's all relative.

September 30th 14:15

Another assignment. Are these going to be bimonthly? What happens if we don't do them? Do we have to spend extra time in psyche-chair spilling out our repressed memories and frustrations? I've definitely written more than Shemp. In fact, I will fabricate an imaginary Shemp entry for your entertainment.

30 Sep 14:15

Woke up at nine.

Trained for three hours.

Tried to fix a Puddlejumper, because it 'broke' while I borrowed it. Got electrocuted. Shouted swear words. Fell backwards, broke a panel. Glass. Metal. Sparks. More swear words.

Beckett took me to his dad.

I'm all better.

I'm grounded, too. (he can still be 'grounded' because he isn't mentally close to twenty yet).

I think I'm hungry.

Kar's a dweeb.

Urg.

Okay, I've had my fun. On with the assignment.

_A word association/ stream of consciousness exercise_: (It's getting complicated)_ start with the first word that pops into your head, then another that goes with the first, then another until you feel a subject coming on. Don't stop. Don't control the words. _(But I'm a control freak)_ Just type. _Here goes nothing.

…blue, water, Atlantis, Athosians, bonfire, flame, red, blood, hands, knees, glass, hair, skin, blood, red, red hair, red eyes, red floor, crimson, cold, white, nothing, empty, dead, lost, scared, corner, hiding, knees to chin, hands clasped and wet and thick and stained.

Clothing, sticking, skin, wet.

Dark.

Red hair,

Eyes

Eyes wide, slick and slack, crack, splatter, across like acid spray, on my lips, in my lips. Iron.

Oh god fuck

Wraith, reeper, death, blood, fuck.

Hide, corner, crack, sharp, wet, sinking

See, taste, blood, red haired blood

Dead, eyes, stare, remember, erase

Erase, forgetdkjfffffffdsssssssssss

I couldn't

Vdaffdsgtfrefgbhyfjhjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjhhhh

She died.

I know she died. She died and I never talked about it and I'm still never going to and this damn thing is gonna to get you a million skipped sessions. And you'll have to drag me from my lab to come and talk to you, because I don't want to talk about Gulina. She'd dead. She's gone. Like the flutter of blood drops in the air. And yes they fell on me and yes they covered me and yes I saw it. They broke her like a doll. And I saw it, and you never knew I saw it. And you can't tell him I saw it. Blood unseen, the water washed it all away the stains, dark clothes, no stains. I was so wet where I hid. I was so cold.

Her hair was so red, so wet and deep like ink. They let the water take her. Her hair, her red hair, it burnt out—the water made it black.

Deleting entry

_Author's note:_ I've done a word association thing before and it can get pretty intense. The random letters aren't an accident, that's simply her ramming/leaning her hands into the keyboard.


	11. Burden Spilt

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

October 10th 13:15

I know I haven't written for awhile, Kate. I saw that look you gave me. I have a good reason, and I might be up to talking about it in a month or two. I've done some searching in my self; I imagine it's what Beckett is usually doing to make the pain in his memory fade. But I needed the memory, even if it was abstract and scratched up by years of constant repression. It was false repression, because I was consciously aware of it. It was like covering up a reminder in order to ignore it. It's there, you know it, but you can't see it.

I didn't realize what today was, until I saw Carson light a candle on his desk. (I was in the good old infirmary for a sliced hand—Damn ancient tech and it's sharp angles) He smiled at the little flame and then, as if it were a daily routine, shrugged it off and turned to my injury.

But there was a hurt in his soft blue eyes. They were bruised inside and the tears were being forced out like drops of morning dew. His vision must've been blurry from it, because he squeezed my hand too tight. I jerked it away; little red drops flew into the air and splattered across Carson's white coat and my pants.

I was caught in the color, in the texture, in the dots it made like Morse code. Then iron came to my tongue and I licked my lips. Once drop had strayed. I was horrified. I looked at my pants and imagined the blood seeping through the fabric and to my skin.

Then Carson had my hand again and was cleaning it up. He had his face down. I noticed shadow spots next to the red ones. Oh god. What is one to do with a soft Scottish man! How can I hold an ounce of my selfish guilt before such a person!

"Oh god, Carson,"

He looked up surprised by the trembling voice and the tears in my eyes, but he couldn't make the connection and assumed I was in a mourning state about my hand. (I am not my father when it comes to pain!)

I looked at the flame, "I was there. I was. I was, when—I couldn't."

I couldn't speak or breath and suddenly I was weeping in the shoulder of his coat, brushing my lips against soaking blood drops and finding myself drowning in the taste. And through the whirlwind of crying and remembering and reliving, I divulged the burden of my childhood.

I was only six. I was down in the city's broken halls, trying to find Shemp in a game of hide and seek. It turned out he had run off back to the city center and I was in the middle of a hopeless endeavor. I was not aware when two wraiths infiltrated the city.

I heard a shallow cry and assumed Shemp had gotten stuck. I pattered down the halls. The floors were slick. I found a crack and squeezed through ripping my black pants. My shoes were engulfed by water and I found my eyes consumed by darkness. Stumbling, I moved towards a glow of light and there I witnessed.

I blended into the corner of the room as the air caught in my lungs at the sight of it, him. He and the woman held by the neck in front of him. Wraith. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't scream, nor would I have wanted too. I can't recall the rest in perfect image. He broke her, somehow, and the blood sprayed out and hit my face and dripped into my mouth. Then he went away and made the room explode (part of their failed attempt at synchronized bombs). The floor sunk down. I crawled to her as the wall cracked away and the water rushed over her legs. I think I tried to pull her arm, I think I tried. But she slipped away and faded into the dark, into the black of the ocean. I panicked as death hit me and I ran away through the crack, to a place beneath the city. It was cold and wet, but it washed the blood away. And no one knew I had seen it, no one knew.

I almost told them, almost.

But then I found out why she had been down there—she had been looking for me.

Carson. I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner.

I'm afraid he might feel guilty, the poor sensitive soul, that I had to see it, that I had to keep it a secret, because I blamed myself. But I don't think I can blame anything or anyone else. It is my fault. It will always be my fault that she died, that Carson lost the love of his life, that Kevin grew up without a mother.

Oh, god. What did I do?

I didn't just cause the death of one person but of two.

October 11th 20:50

Carson told his son, and my father, and my mother. Now, the three look at me differently. I am truly not a child to them anymore; they know I can't take life for granted. But I've been avoiding Beckett. Not that that is hard to do, because you usually have to search for him in the first place. But we seem to have a knack for running into each other.

Right now, I just can't stand to see his face.

It' s my fault he became a ghost.


	12. Forgive Me Not

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

October 13st 12:04

I should've expected it, that he would come looking for me.

Beckett took me for a walk this morning, before nine o'clock. He found me in my lab and realized I had worked through the night; he threatened to tell Carson unless I took a break. How could I say no to those eyes and that smile? (And the threat of having a needle jabbed in my arm?) They were angelic.

It was a quiet promenade through the sleeping city. We reached the east balcony and watched the sun rise over the ocean's horizon as the morning haze dissipated. For a moment the ocean and sky were one and I forgot about the wraith.

I wondered if Beckett did this every morning for that reason, so he could forget the wraith and forget his mother. She was the only one that called him Kevin, and suddenly I realized why he'd looked so shocked when I'd called him by it in the 'basement'. He had been caught in one of his dreams and for a moment had thought I was his mother.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

"Why should you be sorry?" he said gently.

"It's my fault. My fault, if I hadn't—" his fingers were on my lips and he gave a knowing smirk. How could he be so calm?

"If you hadn't been down there, if she hadn't gone looking for you," he continued, "But what about Shemp? If he hadn't disappeared you might've found him and returned sooner. If the wraith hadn't come she would've simply found you, because she didn't know they were there either. There are strings of causation we could create, leading to the blame of Rodney and Elizabeth deciding to fall in love. It doesn't help anything."

"But, I, I feel guilty."

"As did I," he whispered.

"You were only three, you didn't have anything to do with it."

He turned his face away, "But I'm the one that noticed you were gone. I sent my mother to look for you."

Dear god, why must the universe make everything so complicate that we can't even find where to put blame. But I got what he meant. Blame is useless. It doesn't fix the past, nor heal the present. It is just like finding that damn reminder you hid to forget, and realizing you're over due.

It became very quiet and I found my mind for once filled with silence. I was drawn to him. The past cannot be repaired, but the future…what of that? I gently wrapped my elbow around his. He acknowledged it by lacing his fingers between mine. It was a soft moment as if it would be bruised by wind or sound. He smirked at me and I knew there was something he had to say, but his lips never opened.


	13. Of Rain and Beckett

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

November 20th dude, where's my watch?

Yeah, I don't know what time it is. In fact, it could very well be the next day. (My computer time is way off, I know it). I'm just amusing myself with this journal as we sit out a torrential down pour in a poor hovel of a cave. Yeah for my first mission! All we wanted to do was say hello to the locals, but when we reached the village it was deserted. Now we know why. The whole valley is flooded, which includes the gate.

Damn it! Shemp is snoring. Wow, he can sleep like that? It looks like his neck is going to break. That's it I'm gonna kick him. Dfsjarnmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,nkjluifhyhjuk

Dls;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;tkk

He threw my computer! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

He's well bruised now, I feel better.

It feels cramped in here, even though there's only four of us. Shemp, Me, Beckett, and Lt. Uh I can't pronounce his name. (He's Shemp's babysitter). Beckett's here because of Shemp's last mission. He came back looking like he'd walked through a food fight. He just has no negotiating skills.

I think I see the future flag team, although I'm not sure I enjoy going off world that much. Yummy, power bar and crumb cake. Yes, I come aptly prepared. God, it's cold in here. My fingers arwe shakking.

It's morning. The rain is gone. The others are still asleep. I wake up however when the tiniest bit of light shines in my eyes (Iusually sleep in a blanket cacoon).My fingers were much warmer last night. Beckett noticed I was shaking. He rubbed my hands in his and wrapped his arms around me. It was cozy. The Lt. gave us a warning glance. Geez what a pervert.

November 22nd

Who cares about the time! I'm dry and warm and free from Shemp's snores!

Home sweet home!

Carson just released us all. I had minor hypothermia, probably because my shoes had soaked through. Just imagine if Kevin hadn't kept me warm. Okay, that's it. We're laying down a rule before I confuse myself. I will from now call him Kevin in my journal. So no more Beckett, Beck, Beck.

Kevin took me for another walk an hour ago, back to the balcony. Only this time the sun was setting. Again, something was on his mind, just on his lips. He leaned into my ear and spoke like it was a prophecy, "Someday, you'll be Mrs. Beckett-Mckay."

I stared at him and he must've seen a question there, because he answered it a second later, "I'd think you'd want the hyphen because of the pride you put in being a McKay."

"Of course," was my only reply. Kevin was being his strange self, but I didn't mind and I didn't doubt. It seemed perfectly logical to me; I could think of no one else and I didn't want to.


	14. The Fuffly Stuff

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

December 12th

Time really is a waste; it makes you panic.

But it does help remind you when to eat, when to sleep, when to put down the stupid ancient gizmo. Wow, I just called an ancient device stupid…. I hate time, it always screws me up. I never have the same routine twice because I run on something like thirty-six hour days. And I've already gotten the hint that it could be the death of me.

This is one of those days with nothing. Nothing but crumb cake, computer, and me. And Kevin. But that's for later. Right now I'm just chill'n in my quarters, which I don't hardly ever see enough of. It's really convenient having separate quarters from my parents. Kar doesn't, instead an old medical curtain separates his room from their kitchen.

Oh, looky. Mommy came to visit…and now she's looking over my shoulder as I type. Hi, mom. Buzz off this is precious private time here…oooooOOOoooo coffee. Never mind. Girl's hour.

That was fun.

Really, Kate it was. I know I don't follow the stereotype of an average girl but I can still appreciate girl talk. But I sill didn't tell mom about Kev. In fact, they've got it all wrong. The whole time she was dropping not so subtle hints about Kar and me. Uh, ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Friend yes, but there is no way I could ever ever ever care about him in that way. Never! Ever Ever Ever. He's too weak! I've said it before. He's bruise-able and I'd make him into pulp. He needs a soft hand, he needs a kind heart—not the first thing that comes to people's minds about me. I think geek, bitch, and headache are closer to the truth. And who would call me a Bitch you say? I'm sure I seem perfectly harmless to you, but that little Greg Groddin gets a whooping when his mouth opens…bloody this bloody that, sodden off. AHHHHHHH! Why does he bait! (Although, it is amusing to see where his new hiding spots are).

Cheers, as Kev would say.

December 25th 16:23

I'm glad that whole journal assignment idea has died out. I think it was more of a deterrent than and an incentive. Really, I prefer ranting to organized writing any day. Hell, I might even try my hand at poetry…or not.

You probably don't want to read what I'm gonna write next. In fact, I probably shouldn't be writing it, but you're an adult you can hear it. Just don't repeat it.

Kevin is a really good kisser. But it's not just the kiss; I could sit with him for hours without any physical need. (Unlike Shemp…ack I caught him making out with some Athosian girl…and I could see he doesn't know how to kiss). Kevin is my other half, together us ghosts keep ourselves solid. I could probably spend the next thirty pages describing every little quirk my Kev has, his eye-smiles, his smirk, his eyebrow twitches, his little dimples…I could, but I won't.

Kev and I our being normal with all this affection for each other. We follow our patterns: I work my ass off in the lab and he disappears. I discovered he writes poetry when he's alone, but he still won't let me read it. We don't like being obvious. There's no need to announce it. Kar is definitely getting the idea, but I know our parents are blind. We probably seem very benign sitting on the balcony.

The strange thing is I don't think of him differently. The image I have of him never changed from the one I had in my first entry. He is still my friend, just with more perks. We still acknowledge each other the same way. I still call him Beckett in public.

I like fate.

_Author's note: _some of you made a comment about why McKay's daughter would be telling Kate this. Well, I know it might be weird, but Kate is the Counselor in the city--people are meant to tell her stuff. And McKay's daughter and Kate's son are best friends, so Kate would be like as second mother or a really cool aunt to her. Plus, she may not entirely believe Kate's reading it.


	15. The Eve of Me

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

January 1st

God, New Years Eve.

It was much too loud in the gateroom. Many Athosians had come from the mainland and they were dancing about like possessed wackos. Not that some of us Tauri weren't being Wackos. Shepherd should never be seen dancing in public! Although I don't really get this holiday, it's not like it fits with this planet's cycle.

People and their damn traditions.

I only stayed around long enough to help the kids whack the Pinata. That is such a funny word—Pinata. It was a very sick looking one, but then again I have nothing to compare it to. I think one of the majors made it. Well, after several kids with no sense of direction, it finally split open and little sugar sweets came out, including candied flowers from the planet Arali. Yes, I took a handful or two (mmmmwhahahahahahahahahahahahaha.)

I wasn't gonna stick around though. Hear the stupid singing contest at ten? Hell, no! No one wants to hear Zelenka sing in Czech! He sounds like a dying mountain goat. I don't even know why you let him traumatize us all like that! Now, if mom every got dad to sing I might consider hovering a bit longer. He is very good. He used to sing to me when I was little.

I went down to 'basement' again. I followed my feet through the halls and naturally I stumbled upon my Kevin. It's like a dream when I'm with him and all the intelligence in my head is useless and I am only my heart. He led me to a room, through a wall-door, where the ceiling is glass and the stars twinkled at us. It was a storage room and he rummaged around to find me a blanket. (I get cold so easily).

It's all a dream now. How the blankets were emptied from the box and ended up on the floor, how we ended up laying on them. He was so warm and the blanket wasn't enough and feeling him through his shirt wasn't enough. For once kissing wasn't enough and the rhythm of our hearts was torturing me. Fingers, kisses, layer by layer and it wasn't 'til cheers ripped through our world of infinite love that I knew this year was new and I was new.

(And no, you can't tell my parents. The fact that I told you is something monumental. But I have to tell someone and telling Kar would be awkward. Even Kira would be awkward, because she's always asserted waiting for marriage).


	16. Me Different?

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

January 6th 19:32

How different am I meant to feel?

Is it meant to make me, well, mature or something? Am I different to others?

Is it all relative?

Kar stared at me this morning. I think the light went on in his attic, while everyone else stays in the dark. At first it was shock, then mild amusement, then he beamed at me and winked. Is there a fricken sign over my head in Czech? I think he's jealous, like he's using me as something to measure up against. Suddenly he seems so boyish and he knows it. There is no sex appeal there. (Although I'm speaking from a slanted point of view because I will never ever ever think of Kar in that fashion, not even hypothetically. I can't believe my mom even hinted it—god, it's like incest.)

My dad walked into the lab a little later. He froze three feet from me and again I was being stared at. I felt like a specimen under glass. His mouth opened with that weird little gap and his eyebrows shot up.

"Did you change your hair?" he asked finally. I shook my head.

"New clothes?" Uh, no dad, like you even notice them anyway.

"Not make-up!" NO! I hate make-up, and he seems to like it that way.

"Give it up, Mr. McKay," interjected Kar, "It's a woman thing."

Dad gave me a wary look, "That time of the month?"

Oh my god. Guys just go away! How did dad and mom ever get together? (Oh, wait I know that story—everyone knows that story. Grabbing and kissing the city leader in front of everyone in the gateroom has that effect—it's so cute, Shepherd has pictures).

They didn't bring it up for the rest of the day, but that whole staring thing stuck around, even though my dad was really staring at Kar staring and smirking at me. I know my dad got the wrong idea; I know he's going to tell mom his wrong idea; and I'm positive Z will be aware of it by dinnertime.

This is gonna suck. I am not dating or mildly interested in your son. Well, duh. I'm completely interested in Kevin. But you and Kar are the only ones that know this. And this is the reason why, because I hate everyone knowing stuff, and talking about stuff, and screwing up the meaning of stuff, or awing and oooing at stuff.

Mom would want all the gooey girly info. Especially if I was with Kar, because I'm sure she imagines us being cute little geeks together. Dad would be suspicious, protective—annoying! So very annoying! And then he'd do a stuttering explanation if I caught him spying (which he is so capable of).

Secrets are nice, special, like the last flower of the season hidden away in a box, kept forever perfect and untouched. And love can be untouched, untainted by prying eyes. It can be like silk curtains in the invisible ocean wind, like the dancing of sand through fingers; it can be gentle and soft like the down of the Gliry bird (little spheres of fluff that can't fly and roll around the forest floor of Arali).

Love is beautiful. Damn it! I'm being all gooey! Aaaaaahhahahahahahahahahah. Damn it Kevin this is all you and your poems fault. Damn the poetry, it's so moving and profound and god, some of them make me cry. And I don't cry. Really I don't. Damn, I'm feeling all fuzzy inside. I wonder if everyone feels fuzzy inside when they fall in love?

I'll ask Kar if he ever does.


	17. Of Conclusions and Consequences

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

January 11th who cares about stupid time

Damn it dad: He did what I said. His little scientific mind went off on the wrong conclusion. The end result was mom coming to my room with a pleasant grin and rosy cheeks and a little sign over her head that said "finally". I think she was afraid of me becoming a hermit, because I never showed any interest in any of the Athosian boys that showed definite interest in me. And why? I have no idea—they're weird.

Unfortunately, I had to pop her little bubble. It took awhile, she was really willing to believe in me and Kar as a couple. But after describing many scenarios to her in which Kar and me will never be compatible, reassuring her that whatever dad saw was some amusing secret between only Kar and me. However, this concept of secret seemed to bring up her hope.

I never mentioned Kev. I didn't want to burst my own bubble. I don't know why they can't see it. Are the calm boy and the caffeine driven girl just to hard to click together? Opposites attract, right? Obviously. I'll give them another month or two, maybe then I'll grab and kiss him in the gateroom—it'd be a nice effect.

January 23rd

Blech.

I really don't feel good this morning.

Blech Blech Blech.

I shouldn't have drunk all that coffee—with lots of sugar.

Blech Blech Blech…damn.


	18. One plus One equals Three

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

January 29th 2029 7:35

Okay, now fate might be getting on my nerves.

This is not how it's supposed to be. This isn't meant to happen yet. I mean, I'm not like angry or ashamed for myself. I'm at the perfect age for it, but god Kev's only nineteen. I don't want this to start a huge family feud or something.

Damn it. I can't even type it. It's like writing my death sentence.

I'm going to have a baby.

That sentence looks weird, because it feels much less weird, much more natural then that sentence looks and oh damn I think I'm gonna start weeping. Ahhhh. This is driving me insane. I haven't told anyone yet, only Kira knows because she gave me the test.

Damn Damn Damn. I can't write that enough. Oh god. I think I hear Kev's shuffling feet outside my door. It's very distinctive. Damn it, I have to tell him. And I am absolutely clueless as to what his reaction could be.

8:55

Okay. That wasn't so bad. It was kind of cute. Oh damn, tears. I hate this weeping thing. I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad. At least I know Kevin is happy, surprised, but happy. It was the first time a smile went clear across his face and his emotions skyrocketed to an unprecedented proportion. He swung me into his arms and twirled me across the room for a whole minute. Which was a really bad idea, because I quickly had to jump away and puke (my poor floor!).

Kevin decided sooner was better than later. He mesmerized me with his baby-blue stare and led me off to the infirmary. Suddenly, we were standing before Carson who seemed delighted and confused at us holding hands. (God, they still didn't realize we were together).

End of story: Carson likes the idea of being a grandfather, and although Kevin did get a short, pathetic scolding you just can't hold him to the same standards as everyone else. He's father material, you can't argue with that.

Again I was whisked away and found myself in my mother's office. I was in a trance and Kevin had to do the talking and asked her to call Rodney over from the lab. Dad was hilarious.

"What, what," he stuttered, "me, gr-gr-grandfather…uh" faint

Mom said he did the same thing when she told him about me.

I think I want a boy. Especially if he ends up like Kev or Carson. But we really don't need another Rodney running around, do we?


	19. Can you feel the love?

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

February 14th Yes, the dreadful valentine's day

Again, what is it with these damn traditions? Everyone is getting all gooey, even my parents, and I just can't take all the love! These damn hormones are making me all weepy when I see it. And they keep playing that damn song over the city's PA system: "can you feel the love tonight…" ahhhhhhhhhhh! Yes, I feel the love! And the hormones of pregnancy, which is the result of love! Damn the love, it makes things so complicated.

Yes, I'm gonna be one of those grouchy pregnant women. I am not gonna prance around all happy and large glowing like an angel. I think Kevin's realized this, because he's been trying everything under the sun to make me calm down—and I mean EVERYTHING! (Hey, I'm already pregnant, what harm could there be).

Damn Kate, I can't believe I actually write this stuff to you. But seeing as you're the only person that looks at me the same no matter how much you know about me (and how much it may confirm the suspicion of my insanity) I cannot find a reason not to.

Honestly, how insane might I be? Does sitting upside down in the chair, looking at you from a floor point of view during our sessions, make you question anything about my state of mind? And how I can stay like that with out blood rushing to my head? (You need to get a new chair, because that one is soooooo not comfortable.)

This being pregnant thing is weird, and, seeing as I'm not even two months, it's almost surreal. But there are many perks: Dad's all nice around me, he won't even argue anymore, but he's also being paranoid about a lot ("No you can't work on that it's dangerous" "No, no don't touch that, stand on the other side of the room"); Mom of course is being abnormally cute about it; Shemp is being—oddly enough—really friendly since he found out.

It wasn't a reaction I was planning on with him. Nice I could understand, everyone is going to be really nice to me for the next few months, but friendly was just bizarre. The tension between us, those years of competition and torture, have suddenly dissipated. Now, we're left standing like adults, oddly connected by our past and what ever the future might be.

And what will the future be? Pink or Blue? Oh, crap…I got to pick a name, what fun.

February 28th

The name game is staying on the low. Kev and I want it to be a surprise when the baby is born, not even you can know what we've picked out. They're really good names; there's a nice ring to them.

Okay, I'm being cheap today.

Cheers.


	20. Oops

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

_Author's note about the previous chapters:_ Yeah, I know the one-night pregnant thing is cliche, but I think McKay's daughter needs some cliche in her abnormal uncliche life, something unexpected to her and expected by the readers. Also, maybe they did do it more than once...I don't know, if that works for you fill in the gaps.

April 23rd 

Oops. Where did the time go?

You're getting really lax on this journal. Do I want to know why? How bad could the reaction possibly have been? In fact, if you don't enforce it a little more I might stop writing in this. I think Shemp already has. Is that the problem? Are people defying you, because if that's so you need to defy them right back. Ya know, just take a deep breath and go grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Anygate, as everyone will know by the end of the day, I'm having a boy. Yeah. Now Kevin and me know exactly what name we're using, but you still can't know. God, I'm so hungry. Well, duh. It's a boy, they eat a lot. (Just watch Shemp in the cafeteria after a mission—does he have two stomachs?)

I'm bulging. I don't want to bulge. I don't want to wear loose shirts and pants, it makes me look all weird. This is that middle period in pregnancy, where you don't quite look pregnant, but you don't quite look thin and the maternity shirts and stuff are still to big. Kira offered to make me some clothes. Me love nice friends.

And about that nice thing. It ends up people are avoiding me more then being nice. It's like watch-out hormones are coming run for your lives. Geez, get some brains people. Okay, I have to got tell Carson, Dad, and Mom they get a grandson.


	21. Happy Birthday to Meeeeeeeee

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

May 12th

Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me!

Great, now I'm twenty-three. Ain't that swell. I just keep getting older—and bigger. How big is this kid going to be?

I need a nap—no _we_ need a nap. It's the baby's fault that I'm so pooped and that Carson's watching me like a hawk. Now, I have a strict healthy diet to adhere to and only limited hours each day to work in the lab. I can't have any coffee! None-zilch-notta. I'm suffering mental and physical withdrawal…the universe will never be the same. (To imagine the "pain" I'm in over my lack of caffeine imagine my dad NOT consuming coffee for a whole month—he'd die before he's succeed.) This sucks.

At least I've taken the liberty of getting revenge. Carson's sweaters might me ugly, but they're quite cozy and soft—plus they fit me. I'm a naughty little thief. Kevin gave the cutest child-confused look when he saw me with one on.

"Is that my dad's sweater?" he asked.

"If I say no, where else would I have gotten such a hideous attempt at knitting?" I snapped. (I've noticed I'm excessively snappy currently, I don't usually snap at Kevin).

There was a very long pause and a transition of five different facial expressions "My dad knitted that."

Oops. How was I supposed to know Carson could knit? It's not like he every told anyone or made anything for anyone (which is probably a good thing). However, this does explain how his sweaters appear to multiply.

Well, if he can make more I'll just adopt some as a birthday present.

Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me…and my big round belly.


	22. Two Men and Public Property

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

July 1st

Did I just skip like two months?

Why didn't you tell me or psyche me? Why?

And why'd you cancel our session last week? Because I'm really disappointed, I had the funniest story to tell you. I tell it here.

I was in the lab yesterday minding my own business, typing on the computer, when dad and Kar walked in chatting over some technical stuff. They chat really loud, too. I was really hoping to have the whole lab to myself, without having dad watch me like a mother hen. Anywho, I was ignoring them, until ouch—that damn little boy inside my big belly kicks me! (How dare you little brat, I'm your mother!)

My dad saw the reaction on my face and was immediately by my side, of course I just shrugged it off, he kicked me I said. Dad got the cutest look on his face like a damn curious child. He wanted to feel his grandson kick. But then Kar was standing all curious watching, feeling out of the loop. So, in the end, I'm sitting there with two guys' hands on my stomach waiting for a baby to kick. (It's a weird image.)

Finally, after five minutes I was getting very very annoyed.

"That's it," I said, "pregnant woman is vacating the lab—you guys are freaking me out."

"But nothing happened," dad whined.

"That's because he thinks you're freaky…and what the hell makes my belly public property!" I exasperated.

"Maybe we should bow and beg for forgiveness," suggested Kar to my dad, who appeared to agree. I did vacate and went off to "mommy" where we spent an hour talking about everything from Kevin to Earth, from dad to Athosian cake.

Okay, it's been bugging me. Why did Kar act strange this morning? His dad took him out of the lab for half an hour and when he returned he wouldn't even talk. Is he in trouble for something, because I can vow for him being an angel and a half. I'm worried. There is something going on and I'm out of the loops and we all know how much I hate that. But since the majority of people are out of the loop I will resist from pushing the issue.


	23. To the End

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

July 4th

I lied.

I pushed.

I didn't even to it the conventional way: corner Kar and pressure him until he spills. I didn't have the heart to bruise his poor sensitive self. Instead, I circumvented everyone and everything. I broke the passwords of private computer systems, including Carson's, in order to discover the truth. And I feel ashamed. But I equally feel betrayed.

Don't you trust me? Us? Everyone on Atlantis? We love you Kate. You keep us sane. What would we do with out you, what would we do? At least, you can allow us to be as privy to you as you've been to us. I'm sure everyone would like to return the kindness you've shown us all.

Please Kate. I won't say anything about it to anyone. But I don't think keeping it a secret it right.

July 25th

I don't know why I'm writing in this now; you'll never read it again, Kate. I'm not even sure if you read it in the first place, but I can't ask you now. I suppose I should be sad that you're gone. After all, you were like an aunt to me. But for some reason it feels natural, aside from the fact the others and I were expecting it.

Kar's broken. It's almost like having a second Kevin. The world doesn't reflect in his eyes anymore. I've had to send him out of the lab five times for being absent mined and unfocused. Z's taking it much better, he can bury himself in the work. I wish I could yank Kar out of the misery he's drowning in, but it's not my place. Besides, Kira seems to be much more sensitive to him than I.

I have no reason to write anymore. It's sad but true. I only wrote because you made me, because you'd give me those psyche eyes if I didn't, because it was an excuse to disappear into my room. Plus, I'll probably be too busy in the coming months. What with mother and scientist duties. I have to thank you for all the great advice you gave me. I hope it comes in handy.

Maybe I'll force my kids to have a journal, but for me this is it.

Good bye Kate.

**Author's note:** Note quite the end...mmmmmwwwwhahahahahahahaha


	24. Hi

Journal of the Genius's Daughter

Stargate Atlantis

By Teenangel

Summary: The words of a certain scientist's daughter about her life on Atlantis.

Note: This is assuming they're never able to contact Earth. Don't expect a concrete plot or explanations; this is a journal so the character wouldn't assume she'd have to put in the duh stuff. Being that I am not a doctor or a medical persons or a mechanic some things may be incorrect, forgive me.

I only mention the year once, unless it changes.

Disclaimer: Me poor college student using time poorly, me broke ug. Don't sue me, waste of time.

_Author's note on previous chapter: _Yes, Kate died of natural causes.

**March 4th 2072**

Hi. My name is Rodney Carson Beckett-Mckay Jr. Anygate, I'm just writing because I made a deal with my Grandmother: If she let me read her journal, I would begin writing mine. I actually think this might be fun.

Well, I'm eighteen years old. I have auburn hair and blue eyes. I have my Great-grandfather Rodney's smile. (Stupid slant smile. What is wrong with that damn muscle?) I'm a wee Scottish man, seeing as I'm only five-four. Oh, and I _hate_ Earth cake.

_Fin_

**Author's ramblings about the fic:**

(Yes, she named her son Rodney Carson Beckett-McKay, or else her grandson wouldn't be a junior. Quess there were more Rodneys after all.)

Now that we've come to the conclusion I thought it might be interesting to note that the original story was written in August and had only six pages. I reopened the story at college, and with some begging from my sister, elongated it and stretched the ending out a few more entries. (Your comments did alter the story on many occasions). It was not intended to ever go this far and it is the first story I've every completed (fan-based or original).

But from start to finish I had one rule, I would never name or describe the daughter of McKay (aside from eye-color and smile), because I didn't want to detract from your own imagination. What do you think she looks like? What should her name be? (No, her name will never be Chocolate).

If you feel up to filling in any gaps or finishing up anything I left hanging, go right ahead, just give me credit where it's due. I wonder what everyone else wrote in their journals…Damn I think I feel a sequel. Yes, I do feel a sequel, but not a journal. Chill, I'll start writing it in a month or two (me have Anthropology paper to write--ack I'm a geek).


End file.
